


when the autumn moon is bright

by cerie



Series: Howl [3]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Dom/sub, F/M, Pregnancy, Werewolf, loup garou, sex during pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen wonders why the hell she hasn’t just taken to sitting around with a gun on her tea tray.  Clearly, no place is sacred, and she thinks that’s a lesson she should have learned before now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the autumn moon is bright

Learning the ins and outs of the Sanctuary is more difficult than Will could ever have imagined but it’s good work that feels rewarding at the end of the day even if the end of the day comes at 2:00 AM when he’s covered in goop. The late nights don’t bother him, especially around the full moon, but he does wish that sometimes he could be shifted when he has to deal with some of the ickier things that always end up in his lap. The wolf doesn’t have nearly as weak a stomach as Will does.

Helen doesn’t either, even though it’s touchy because of the baby. Will tries to be deferential to that and bring her mint and ginger to calm her stomach but sometimes there’s just nothing for it except for her to lay down and hope it passes. Today is one of those days and Will promises to finish up the last of the inventory so she can take the afternoon off. It’s the least he can do and, additionally, it proves he can step up and be the protege she needs to help her with her work.

Once he’s managed to finish up everything that can’t be left to Ashley and Henry, he sneaks up to the North Tower and finds Helen sprawled across her bed, a cool cloth over her eyes and all the drapes drawn. Even though it’s mid-afternoon, the heavy drapes make it perfectly dark in her room and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. He sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers lightly from her ankle to her knee.

“Hey, you. Are you feeling okay?”

Helen gives him a wan smile but she doesn’t take the cloth from her eyes. “I have, in fact, felt better in my life. It will pass eventually. I just...it wasn’t nearly this bad with Ashley. I don’t understand this at all, Will. I suppose I’ll have to do more research on loup garou pregnancy. I confess, before now, it hasn’t been entirely relevant.”

Will chuckles and presses a kiss to her thigh just above her knee before sliding up the bed to curl against her. Helen doesn’t acknowledge his presence other than to brush her curled fingers back against the hair at his temple and Will closes his eyes, overwhelmed at the simple intimacy of it. He’s never had this kind of affection before and it’s intoxicating.

“I’m sorry you’re sick. I guess it’s...the grr part of me, isn’t it?” Helen nods and Will turns a little, brushing his lips against her throat. “Well. I guess the only thing I can do is try to make this as easy as possible on you, right? Dote on you? Make you feel special?” Helen’s mouth twitches a little as if she wants to smile but is too deep in her foul mood to really concede and that’s when Will knows that he’s won. It’s just a matter of tipping the scales now.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing her jaw. “And brilliant. And there is nobody I have ever cared about more than I care about you.” Will slides his hand just beneath her blouse, laying it against the warm skin of her stomach. She runs hotter these days and he imagines it’s because she’s carrying a mini-werewolf. “There’s nobody in this world that I have ever loved before you. Not the way I love you.”

Helen does smile then, deep and with a flash of dimple, before letting out a deep breath and relaxing again. Will decides to count that as a victory and drapes his arm over her waist, curling as close as he can manage when they’re both human. It’s times like these that being a wolf might be beneficial if only because the wolf can curl up and cuddle in ways that human Will can’t fold himself into.

***

Helen doesn’t say “I love you.” Well, correction, she doesn’t say “I love you,” to anyone other than Ashley because Ashley, unlike a man or woman that Helen has brought into her life for a romantic relationship, loves her unconditionally. The bond between mother and child is much stronger than anything Helen has ever experienced romantically.

And then there’s Will, who possesses her in ways that Helen didn’t even know it was possible for someone to be possessed. He consumes her in a way that no relationship has since John Druitt and that’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. She enjoys their dynamic more than she even admits to herself and she loves the idea of belonging to someone so utterly. It’s freeing, in a way, to just let everything go. She’s never really asked Will how he feels about giving over to the wolf but she imagines it may be similar.

After napping for far too long in the middle of the work day, she carefully extricates herself from Will’s arms and makes her way back down to her office to finish up a few clerical things that simply got left to the wayside when she started feeling so ill. It’s soothing, monotonous work and Helen settles into a decent rhythm when she hears a little crack and smells ozone in the air. No matter how many times she’s told Henry to fix the damned EM shields somehow John manages to learn the new frequencies and gets around them.

“I am absolutely not in the mood today, John.” Helen doesn’t even look up. While she’s normally prided herself on keeping decent relationships with her ex lovers, John isn’t counted among that number. Possessive and firmly stuck in the 19th century when it comes to male-female relations, John Druitt simply isn’t the sort to remain friends with a woman he is no longer courting. Helen especially, considering they had Ashley together and he, for a long time, considered her his wife.

The wife bit didn’t actually come to pass, exactly, because Helen had broken off the engagement sometime in the late 1880s when John began killing but the sexual relationship, as it were, managed to continue off and on well into the _19_ 80s. Ashley was a particularly happy accident. Helen is utterly convinced that she has the worst possible timing when it comes to pregnancy and at least this pregnancy is with a man she’s actually dating.

“Funny, you seemed to have been pleasant enough earlier this afternoon when you were taking a lie-in. I’ve never known you to nap in the middle of the day, least of all with one of your whores.” Helen snorts and shakes her head, still utterly focused on the paperwork in front of her even if the words are jumbled up and making no sense in her fury. “What’s his name, then? Your little _lap dog_?”

Helen does look up now, eyes icy and cold. If John knows what Will is, depending on how jealous and angry he is about it, things could go very poorly for them both. John has to make friends in low places to keep under the radar and considering he still kills, on occasion, having trump cards is how he survives. Presenting a loup garou could very well be a fine incentive for covering up a murder or three.

“His name is none of your concern. What is your concern is the fact that he is a full-blooded loup garou and could tear you limb from limb, especially if you popped in on his mate unannounced. You know, in times of extreme emotional distress, they have been known to shift without the influence of the lunar cycle.” Helen tilts her head and laughs lightly, but there’s no humor in it. Instead, it’s high and a little cold, just like her eyes. “You know, funnily enough, I do feel like it might be stressful for my wolf if he were to find you here. Very unwise, John. You’ll simply have to do better in the future, won’t you?”

John sneers and doesn’t look terribly disturbed. It’s difficult to threaten him and Helen decides that all she’s really done is gone and poured salt into old wounds. He looks like he wants to respond but that dies in his throat when her office door swings in to reveal Ashley and Will. Will’s eyes narrow when he sees John and Ashley’s expression isn’t much better. She does, Helen notes, manage to rein in a little bit of the vitriol that Will leaves unchecked.

“Aww, Dad. Here I thought I had another six months before we had another awkward chat.” Helen carefully folds her hands and lets out a slow breath. “Ashley, try not to antagonize your father today. I’ve already done an admirable job of that myself. John, please feel free to take your leave at any moment and stop learning the signature to my EM fields? I’m terribly exhausted of having to make Henry change it every few days.”

Everything is tense, but cordial, until John makes the point of standing and walking up to Will. John is a tall, powerful man and he towers over Will’s leaner form. While Will carries a bit more strength just because of his dual nature, he can’t really tap into it much without a little aid from the moon and it’s simply not the right part of the lunar cycle. 

“She’ll tire of you, boy. She always does. And when that happens, I’ll be here. You’re expendable.”

Helen isn’t exactly certain that she’s ever seen such a lupine snarl on a human face before.

***

Moonrise is in a few hours but Will isn’t home. For the first time since he first started changing, he’s not in Old City during the change and, instead, is holed up in a suite in an Italian hotel with Helen waiting on a contact to deliver a new piece of technology. Ever since Druitt’s surprise visit, Helen has been on edge and she’d made calls to her old friend Nikola (Tesla, of electricity fame) and coordinated the construction of a new and improved EM shield. It had taken the better part of two months to complete and Helen had been coerced, somehow, into flying to Rome to pick it up instead of Tesla coming to Old City. Considering the proximity to the full moon, Will had come with her and now they were both more than a little nervous about Tesla’s punctuality or the lack thereof.

“Eugh, Helen, what _is_ that disgusting smell? It smells like wet dog.” Will feels like he could say the same. Tesla smells like chloroform, sickly-sweet, and he wishes he could actually be passed out for this if it’s going to be this hard on his nose this close to the moon. Will tucks his head in against Helen’s neck and shoulder and inhales, trying to block out chloroform with rose and steel instead. It’s moderately effective if he ignores Helen’s put-upon sighs and Tesla’s snickering.

“Will, meet Nikola. Nikola, this is Will, if he’ll pull his face out of my hair long enough to say hello. It seems that vampires and loup garou don’t exactly mix on the olfactory level. I’m quite sorry for you both because I don’t smell anything out of the ordinary.” In the interest of being moderately professional, Will brushes a kiss against Helen’s soft skin and straightens; if he breathes through his mouth, the smell is almost tolerable.

“She told me you’re the actual Nikola Tesla,” Will starts, thinking that’s the best way to play this: appeal to the ego a little, show he’s not a threat. He didn’t do so well with Druitt and he hopes that it’s not going to be a running pattern with all of Helen’s friends. Tesla, it seems, is incredibly interested in himself and given the opening, grins wide before launching into a rundown of his own brilliance. It grates on Will if only because he’s humble and believes in hard work without seeking fame but he _is_ impressed. Who wouldn’t be? He’s less impressed with Tesla’s expansive personality and flirtiness; in five minutes, he’s found as many excuses to touch Helen.

After Tesla brushes his fingers against the soft swell of Helen’s belly (finally, at five months she seems to be showing a bit), Will bares his teeth and snarls. It’s less effective as a human than as the wolf but the message is clear: my mate, hands off. Helen presses her lips together and her face pales, clear signs of distress.

“Nikola, please be careful. The full moon is tonight and Will is less capable of controlling his instincts. Will, Nikola doesn’t mean anything. We’ve always been very intimate friends and this is how he always is with me, I assure you. Now, to business. Have you brought my new EM shield?”

Tesla steps away to the bag he’d brought along with him and pulls out a device no bigger than the palm of his hand. Will isn’t very technologically savvy but he’s seen the EM shield generator back in Old City and it was a _lot_ bigger than this thing. He cocks his head, assessing it. “Somehow I feel like it...shrunk. Henry’s is a lot bigger.” Tesla scoffs and shakes his head, putting the device on the table in front of them.

“Did anyone ever tell you that it’s how you use it that matters, not the size? Besides, I built the other one. Heinrich does little more than stand on the shoulders of giants. He’s capable enough at putting together puzzle pieces, I’ll give him that, but _I_ invented the puzzle. Everyone always forgets that. Helen, am I doomed to be a footnote for the rest of eternity? It’s a waste of my considerable time and talent.”

Helen rolls her eyes. “Oh, Nikola. You’re my favorite wine-stained anecdote in the entire history of electrical engineering. Now, tell me what it does, exactly? And try to use English if you can possibly help it. I was always more of a biologist than an engineer.”

Tesla goes on to explain that this EM shield uses an algorithm to randomly calculate new frequencies every ten seconds or so, essentially “re-keying” the lock so that there would be no way for a teleporter to predict the new signature and match his teleport to match. The only way to allow a teleporter inside would be to flip the switch from dynamic to static and provide the static EM signature for the teleporter to acclimate to and blend with. It’s actually very sophisticated science that goes way, way over Will’s head because he’s never had an interest in how things work. He’s always been a student of the mind, of people and their behavior, and while he’s translated that to animal and Abnormal behavior as well, it isn’t anything like this.

“Your hard work is appreciated, Nikola,” Helen says softly, leaning out from the circle of Will’s arms to lay a kiss against the other man’s cheek. Will feels like every cell in his body is protesting that one, simple gesture and his dismissal is far less warm than Helen’s is. He tugs her back into his arms, her back to his front, and makes a point of kissing and nipping along her neck in plain view. _Mine. Not yours._

Tesla holds his hands up and backs out of the door. “Really, Helen, you would think you’d be tired of the overcompensating and the jealousy after all those years with John. I’ll leave you and your little poodle to...whatever it is you do when the moon is bright and the champagne’s on ice. Actually, on second thought, is there champagne? You shouldn’t be drinking in such a delicate condition and I would hate to waste...”

Will growls and Helen lets out a little frustrated sigh. “Nikola, _go_. It’s less than six hours until moonrise and you’re _antagonizing_ Will. Take the bloody champagne. Go rent yourself a room if you want. Just _leave._ ”

Tesla finally seems to take the hint and the door is barely shut behind him when Will slides his hands beneath her blouse to cup her breasts. They’ve been sensitive lately and he’s tried to be careful about touching them but right now, he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s just spent the last half hour making small talk with a vampire who touched his mate to the point where she smells like him and nothing like herself and, more importantly, nothing like Will. It’s like the pervasive scent of Tesla is cloying on Helen’s skin and hair and he wants it gone sooner rather than later.

“Shower, Helen. Now.” Helen bites her lip and it looks like she means to protest when, instead, she goes pliant and limp. Will tugs one of her breasts from her lacy bra and rolls her nipple between finger and thumb, peaking it and eliciting a low, soft cry from her throat. He likes that sound. He wants her to make that sound over and over again and know that it’s from him and nobody else.

It takes them a little while to get there if only because Will is walking backward and stops every few steps to kiss Helen in long, slow kisses that are full of twists and turns that are not unlike the way he feels for her. He’s never felt this way about a woman before, about _anyone_ before, and the idea of losing her is impossible to consider. When he finally manages to get her into the bathroom, his fingers are rough against her clothes and he’s vaguely aware of the soft ping of little pearl buttons hitting the marble floor. Ooops. That’s going to be one hell of a dry cleaning bill.

When she’s naked except for bra and panties, Helen reaches behind her to unhook her bra and it pushes her breasts up in such a way that Will can’t help but lean down to nuzzle between them. Her scent is concentrated here, rosy and nothing like Tesla’s, and he inhales deeply before flashing his teeth against the soft curve of her left breast. Helen gasps and pauses, twisting to try and work the bra off, and Will isn’t anything approaching gentle when he rips at the lace and breaks the catch in his haste to get it off.

He reaches for her panties and Helen stops him with a firm hand against his wrist. “I would like no further clothing casualties, if we can manage? I would like to have something to wear tomorrow that isn’t a bathrobe.” Will chuckles but it’s tight, harsh and forced, and he breathes in and out between clenched teeth in a vain attempt to calm down. He’s being ridden hard by jealousy and the full moon and he needs to make his claim again and again until there’s no question who Helen belongs to.

One would think the fact that she’s carrying his child would be enough and while it helps, nothing is enough. Not near the moon.

Helen kicks off her panties and Will backs her up against the wall between the shower and the sink. The bathroom is roomy, which is good, because it gives him room to kneel down and tug her leg over his shoulder so he can press his tongue against her. She’s warm and wet, worked up already from kissing and touching, and he licks a long, slow stripe against her before breathing lightly against her clitoris.

“More.” Helen isn’t usually demanding but today she is, hand tangled in his hair and hips rocking in desperate little motions against his face. Will teases her, slides his tongue up and down and around but nowhere near where he knows she needs it and when she’s whimpering, he takes pity on her and lightly teases his teeth against her clit. Helen arches her back and gasps, “Do it again,” and Will laughs against her damp thigh.

“Someone’s bossy. It’s like you think you’re in charge or something.” He sucks at her, giving her a few precious moments of stimulation exactly where she needs it, and pulls away. “Protip? You’re not.” He carefully eases her leg off his shoulder and places it against the floor before straightening slightly and framing her hips in his hands. He kisses her belly just below her navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs, then shifts to stand and leans in to start the shower. Normally, he likes it just this side of scalding but with Helen pregnant, he doesn’t want to run the risk of burning her. Once it’s warm, he reaches for her and tugs her inside, wrapping her in the circle of his arms. He buries his face against her neck and just _breathes_ , listening to her heartbeat and reveling in the fact that she’s his, even if it’s just for right now. After the moon, they’ll have work to do, and he’ll have to share her once again.

They won’t be able to do this comfortably for much longer but for right now, he can still be face to face while they make love. It’s not the position he usually employs when the wolf is riding him hard and Will makes a conscious effort to be gentle; his hands come up to frame her face while he moves in her, his cock hitting deep on a slow, easy glide. He slides one hand down to cup her breast, thumb working slow circles over her nipple. She’s so sensitive these days, so hungry for touch, and Will likes that he’s the one that gives it to her. He’s the one she’s chosen to be hers for a little while and sometimes it completely overwhelms him. 

Her orgasm builds slow and steady and it pulls him into his own. It’s gentle and sweet and he seals it with a kiss before pulling away just enough to look into her eyes and whisper against her mouth.

“Remember that you’re mine?”

Helen nods slowly, her eyes luminous and dark. “Always, darling.”

***

It takes a good bit of pestering but Helen finally succumbs to pressure and goes off field duty when she reaches her third trimester. She’s unwieldy and more of a liability than anything else and while she’d tried to protest it (vehemently) even Henry had put his foot down. And, so, she’s ensconced in the media room with her dear friend and a maddening game of chess while an autumn storm howls outside.

She’s contemplating what to do with her bishop when there’s a crash of glass and two snarling wolves come flying into through the open window and onto the parquet floor. Her friend gets up and immediately shields her, trying to prevent her from being a casualty, and Helen wonders why the hell she hasn’t just taken to sitting around with a gun on her tea tray. Clearly, no place is sacred, and she thinks that’s a lesson she should have learned before now. Oh well. No time like the present.

The wolves shift and melt before her eyes and turn into a pair of humans who look similar enough to be brother and sister. They’re both lovely, in a harsh, wild way and have long black hair and the coppery complexion typical of Native Americans. The man speaks, his words slow and carefully measured.

“Heard Will had a bitch. Had to come see it for myself. Smell that, Rebekah?” The woman closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath and a cold smile crosses her lips. She’d be beautiful if she didn’t look mad and Helen wonders if there’s any way she might be able to take them out with a few chess pieces and a rather large, Sasquatch-like manservant. There’s always merit in giving it a shot, isn’t there?

“You see, he always uses the term _mate_ and I find that infinitely preferable to bitch, even if the latter is still correct usage. Now, would either of you care to explain why you’ve ruined my front window and scratched up my floor? And how you’ve managed to shift without it being the full moon?” Will actually isn’t here. He’s in the city with Ashley on an errand and Helen is attempting, even if it’s a vain attempt, to stall for time. The male werewolf shifts a little closer and her friend blocks her even more, his whole body blocking her view of the pair. Just as well. She doesn’t need to see them to address them.

“Lady, don’t you know that real wolves don’t need the moon? Will’s only half wolf. His father was _human._ Just like you.”

Helen wants to protest that she’s not entirely human but she sees that the male has shifted back into his wolf form, glossy black and ominous. He snarls and circles them, nipping at air that’s entirely too close to her heels for comfort. “My brother’s a little busy right now, so I’m going to explain what’s going on. See, we had some good information that not only Will had a bitch, that Will had _you_. You’ve been ruining business for months, so it’s good for our guy and good for us that we take you out. Besides, you’ve got the cub. That’ll go for millions on the black market. Sticking it to Will is just a bonus.”

Helen tries to remain calm. She isn’t the sort to panic under pressure, no, but most of the scrapes she’s gotten into (and subsequently back out of) haven’t been while she’s about to deliver either. She’s unable to fight these two, especially considering they can shift, and she thinks if she can go along with them peaceably she might be able to buy enough time that Will and Ashley can come rescue her.

“You’re mad, both of you, but in the interest of less bloodshed, I’ll go along with you.” Helen reaches back for one of the chess pieces and slices her palm with it, bright blood staining the crown on the ivory bishop. She curls her hand into a fist and hopes the blood won’t wash off in the rain and she’ll get a chance to drop it somewhere along the way to wherever they intend to bring her.

They may be wolves but she has her own wolf who isn’t going to be pleased.

***

Will knows something is wrong before he even enters the house. This evening’s stakeout had been a bust and the errand Helen had sent them on was little more than picking up a replacement part from Tesla for the cooling system down in the SHU. He’d been in town for some kind of conference (under an alias, of course) and instead of just hand delivering it, Helen had asked that he not come to the Sanctuary proper. Will suspects it was in deference to him, considering the smell, but if she wanted to be that deferential, she should have just sent Ashley alone.

Tesla had offered to come back and install the tech for them, though (Henry’s at some fanboy convention this week), so Will looks at him and sniffs the air. “Do you smell that?” Ashley is glaring at them both; she deals in guns, not hyped up senses, but Tesla seems to be on the same wavelength. It’s blood and, more importantly, it’s Helen’s blood. That, coupled with the eerie quiet of the house and the blown out window in the media room only contributes to the feeling that something very, very wrong has happened.

“She didn’t fight them,” Tesla points out. “There would be more blood if she had. And, I hate to say this, but you smell like roses compared to whatever was just in here. This is much more noxious per square inch. Definitely werewolf though. I would recognize that particular odor anywhere. Ah, did I ever tell you about my first encounter with your kind? It was in Germany, actually, right around the turn of the century. When I say bitch, it was a compliment. I couldn’t get past the smell, though.”

Ashley rolls her eyes. “Really? This is my _Mom_ we’re talking about, we are not just standing here trying to decide if she fought or not. She’s _not here_ and we need to go get her. Now. Will?”

Will’s hackles are already raised (metaphorically, this time of month, but the sentiment is still there) and his heart’s beating faster. Panic for Helen is coupled with anger that someone dare take her and if he were the wolf, he’d be howling to the moon right now. The moon’s nowhere in sight, hidden behind heavy clouds and sheets of rain, and if it were visible, it’d just be a sliver, a waxing crescent gleaming gold against the midnight sky.

“We’re tracking her. Ashley, are you loaded with silver?”

Will isn’t entirely comforted by the fact that her response is that she’s been packing silver ever since he started sleeping with her mother but there’s bigger fish to fry.

***

Helen is tied to a chair in what appears to be an old warehouse and, based on the smell, near the docks. It makes sense, considering these two and their comrades traffic Abnormals, but it doesn’t comfort her any. She can only hope that Will’s nose is discerning enough to pick her out among all the other distractions this location affords and she wishes, more than anything, that tonight was the full moon or that Will somehow managed to shift without it. She knows it’s possible for emotional distress to trigger the shift even in someone with only one copy of the gene. If there’s a time for him to be distressed, this is it.

She, too, is distressed, enough to the point where the sharp pains low in her back aren’t just from carrying the baby and are actual contractions. Her friend shoots her a concerned glance and snuffles lightly, indignant, before yelling out for their captors.

“You need to get her into a bed or somewhere soft to sit. She’s in pain.” Wes, the male wolf, rolls his eyes but they seem to have appealed to Rebekah. Helen chalks it up to their genders and wonders if Rebekah has ever had a child before. While it’s easy to brand people (and Abnormals) as good and evil, in truth, it’s usually a hell of a lot more complicated. People don’t always start out intending to do bad things.

“She’s not kidding, Wes. She’s in labor.” Helen feels another contraction coming on and closes her eyes, digging her nails into her palms hard enough to draw blood. She is a strong woman and can handle pain, yes, but she thought she’d be having this child in a bed and not in a hard chair in very real danger. 

“Well, go lay her down somewhere,” Wes says dismissively and Helen’s grateful that Rebekah seems to take pity on her and unties her, leading her to a little pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room. It’s not ideal but it’s certainly better than the damned chair. Helen nods at her friend, still restrained. “He’s a midwife. You’ll want to untie him as well so he can help you. Otherwise we’re going to have a rough night.”

Helen tries to keep her voice low and even because the last thing she wants is to reveal a weakness in front of her captors. She hisses a little when a sharp contraction hits and digs her nails into Rebekah’s wrist; if the girl wasn’t motivated before now, this motivates her, and it’s not long before she’s untied her friend and gotten a concussion for her troubles. 

“Helen. We need to go.” He lifts her easily even though she’s unwieldy and out of proportion and wraps one large arm around her waist to help support her. Helen is moving quickly in spite of the pain and hopes it doesn’t come down to a fight with Wes; she isn’t entirely sure she’s got the speed and stamina to come out on top. In order to get out of the warehouse, Helen has to pass him and she hopes a distraction presents itself.

“Hear that? He’s fighting with someone.” Helen’s ears aren’t as keen as her friend’s and she has to move closer to the door (and Wes’ line of sight) in order to make them out. First she hears Ashley, venomous and sharp and it’s followed by Nikola in his best drawl. He’s putting on a show, for some reason, and Helen has her suspicions as to why. The third voice is Will’s, through gritted teeth, and he must catch sight of her because his face brightens and a little smile plays at his lips for a moment before he looks back to the others. It’s enough to reveal her position, though, and Wes is quick to shift and circle around behind her, giving her no quarter.

Once Helen’s in the center of the room, she cuts her eyes to Nikola, who seems to be on the receiving end of death glares from both Will and Ashley (currently indisposed because they’re tied into chairs not unlike the one that Helen’s been in for the last several hours). “I suspect you know what’s going on, then? They seem to be cross enough and I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Out with it.”

Nikola winces; he likes masterminding schemes, certainly, but he doesn’t particularly like getting his hands dirty and this is decidedly dirtier than usual. He loosens his cravat and gives Helen an apologetic smile. “See, really, I planned not to be here for this whole exchange. Of course, when you insisted that Junior and Girl Scout seek me out, my intentions got a little...derailed. I never wanted to see you hurt, Helen.”

Helen snorts lightly. “No, you intended to be halfway around the world while it happened and out of sight and out of mind. Why in the bloody hell were you arranging to have me kidnapped anyway? Money can hardly be a motivator, I’m sure I could outpay these goons. Tell me. Why did you intend to have me kidnapped, murdered and my child stolen, hmm?”

Nikola has never liked being put on the spot and when he goes to speak, he’s cut short by a glossy black wolf pouncing him and sitting on his chest, snarling just a fraction of an inch from Nikola’s face. Apparently Wes doesn’t like his secrets told. Wes also only has the advantage of surprise and Nikola shoves him off quickly, nails going long and black and his own fangs coming out as he shifts into a vampire.

“Watch it, Furball. Anyway. These idiots were providing me information as to where a vampire nest is, a chance to actually reconnect with my own kind. Think of how glorious it would be, Helen? The resurrection of the greatest race on earth? Once I had the information, I planned to spring your mewling bundle of joy from prison and bring him back to you. I had no intentions of letting you be murdered, either, but they didn’t feel the need to keep their end of the bargain up.”

Helen has a retort on the tip of her tongue when she’s stricken with another contraction, this one more intense than before, and she’s unable to keep from crying out in pain. “Nikola, I need to go. Now.” Less concerning than labor is the fact that Rebekah seems to have awakened from her blow to the head and Wes, too, is less stunned than before. Two wolves aren’t going to be easy to take down, even if they can manage to get to Ashley and Will’s weapons.

Nikola and her friend make quick work of untying Will and Ashley and now, at least, numbers are on their side even if Helen’s a bigger liability than the wolves’ injuries. The wolves circle, snapping and nipping at Ashley and when one goes for her throat, Nikola is quick to retrieve Ashley’s gun and fire a round into Rebekah’s shoulder, leaving her howling in pain and writhing against the floor. Silver directly into the bloodstream is like acid to a human being and the wound will likely fester and kill her slowly but surely. Helen would be concerned normally but right now is not a normal circumstance. Her friend, however, does make the effort to go over and attempt to staunch the bleeding with his shirt. It’ll do for now.

When Wes looks like he’s about to come after _Helen_ , two things happen: first, Helen cradles her belly and hunches over protectively as another contraction rides her and her water breaks and Wes’ body is tackled from midair by a sandy wolf that shouldn’t even be a wolf right now. Will’s a smaller wolf but he’s driven by emotions and he makes quick work of tearing out the black wolf’s throat. Wes, in death, shifts back into his human form and lies still against the concrete floor. Rebekah has slunk off into a corner, whimpering, and Helen imagines she might live if she gets treatment.

Will’s muzzle is dark with blood when he comes over to Helen and he whines and presses his face against her hand until Helen rewards him with an absent scratch between the ears. 

“Pack her up and lets go. We don’t have very long before I’m having a baby and I’ll be damned if I’m anywhere but my own infirmary when I do it.” Nikola gives her a curious look, questioning, and Helen’s own is dark in reply.

“ _You_ will be lucky to ever see the light of day again. So help me, if you disappear before I can exact my punishment I will find you and tear you limb from limb. _Pack her and lets go._ ”

Helen barely catches it when Nikola mutters to Ashley, “And that’s why they call werewolf mates bitches,” and is strangely proud when Ashley pistol whips him in lieu of a response.

***

Will actually isn’t able to shift back, his emotional state too heightened by peril to calm down and Helen wishes, more than anything, that she had _him_ instead of the wolf. Still, he’s curled up next to her in bed and is good about moving when her friend needs to examine her. He’s been busy, back and forth between digging the silver bullet from Rebekah and checking in on Helen’s labor but since the other loup garou is sedated and stable at the moment, he’s come back to see Helen. Ashley is currently occupied with locking Nikola in the SHU and making him comfortable until he can be dealt with. Helen thinks Nikola ought to forgo comfort for the next three centuries but she suspects that’s labor talking.

“Not that much longer.” Helen believes that and the contractions are so close together now that she’s not entirely sure when one ends and the next begins and she’s weirdly comforted when her own screams of agony are matched by Will’s howls. He doesn’t like seeing her in pain anyway but it’s harder to control his own emotions when he’s the wolf and Helen tries to reel herself in, check her reactions so he can relax enough to shift back.

It’s only when she’s delivered and their daughter lets out her first scream that Will shifts from wolf to man again, an incredulous smile on his face. He grabs a pair of scrubs and tugs them on before crossing over to them, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Helen before taking the infant into his arms to hold.

“I guess I don’t always need the moon to be the wolf, huh?”

Helen laughs weakly. “No. We are nothing if not dramatic, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Wes and Rebekah, my original loup garou, looked in my head an awful lot like [Adam Beach](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0063440/) and [Julia Jones.](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1247407/)
> 
> 2) Bitch, as used in werewolf culture, isn't necessarily a derogatory term. Had Will used it (as I had originally written and later edited out), it would have been a term of endearment. It was derogatory when Wes and Nikola used it, however, so read into that however you like.
> 
> 3) If/when I come back to this series, I do plan to explore Nikola's little bombshell about the vampire nest.
> 
> 4) Yes. All loup garou know one another. No, not really, but Will has run across Wes and Rebekah before in both his personal and professional life :)


End file.
